


Surfacing

by handschuhmaus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Minor Injuries, Palpatine is Nome's protege AU, Timeline What Timeline, note I didn't say apprentice: that's another twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus
Summary: A prank can have far reaching consequences.Like a problem that isn't a mere hiccup in the final stretches of the Grand Plan...But for now it would be interesting enough to know why everyone is having a bad feeling about this





	Surfacing

"I don't quite understand what we're being tasked with, Master," Qui-Gon Jinn was saying, playing with his padawan braid.

Dooku exhaled, trying not to let on that he was irritated by the implied question. It was far from an ideal scenario: he wished his padawan to trust him enough to be open with his thoughts, at least, and yet this was one of the most difficult things the boy could ask. "Qui-Gon, I don't have a ready answer for that."

Both Jedi looked over at the banner, plastered against the wall of the corridor, that declared the meeting of the Committee Overseeing Peaceful Synergy, or "COPS". The committee, and the Jedi guarding them, were headed for the peaceful, idyllic planet of Naboo, to hold a summit there on continued peace in the galaxy.

"But if they're just interested in peace..." the boy's voice trailed off and Dooku wasn't sure where his thoughts fell between the naive track of "who'd want to hurt them?" and the more complex question he himself was asking "who are they, and what enemies are they making?" After all, their own code said "There is no emotion, there is peace." The Jedi had been the peacekeepers of the galaxy for millennia. What would another group dedicated to peace _do_?

* * *

Planetside, it was a peaceful and temperate night outside Theed. Rugess Nome, a prominent ship architect, had been called out to design a new fleet worthy of the next regime in time for the upcoming coronation, and was appropriately being put up in one of the fancy hotels at the edge of the capital. Tonight, he had decided to take a walk. He carried a cane, mostly because his right knee sometimes gave way, but the Bith was still spry in his advanced age.

It was somewhat obvious from the arrangement of trees and lights how one should walk to see the nearby river, and he chose to ramble that way. Not too many other people were out. A couple of young men were having a vocal argument but they were also headed out of the preserve, or whatever it was that held this trail and gardens. 

Before long, he found himself on a small stone bridge, overlooking the moonlight on the river. It was a supremely peaceful scene, but something felt slightly off, as if he was anticipating an unknown and frightening event.

It was then that someone literally ran into Rugess Nome.

* * *

"Master Dooku," Yoda said on the holocomm. Unfortunately the visual from his end was somewhat washed out by the Chandrilian sunrise, and Dooku could only guess what it was doing to his own holographic image on Yoda's end. "Received important news, I have. Protesters targeting summit are. Cautious you must be. Any further news, I will convey."

"Do they have a history of being violent--" Dooku began, but Yoda had already shut off the comm signal.

"Well, sounds like _something_ interesting might happen," his padawan commented, popping one last piece of giant corn from his more-or-less evening snack into his mouth and settling down cross-legged on the bare floor to try to meditate. Qui-Gon was not especially adept at meditation yet, but all evidence suggested he was willing to put in the practice until it became easier.

* * *

"Oh gods," said the presumably unintended assailant, who had knocked Rugess Nome onto the ground. "Sir, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--" 

"Will you please get off my leg, then? I previously injured it; it doesn't require your weight on it, twisting it." The Bith sat up, as best he could, and studied the human by the dim moonlight. They had a considerable amount of fluffy hair, and the usual number of limbs. They were wearing some sort of athletic outfit, it seemed, loose and in places damp with perspiration.

"Do you need help up, sir?" the human asked, having got to their feet. Nome could smell something. Dark and slightly metallic...blood? His finger felt damp, and when he, not yet accepting the offer of assistance, peered intently at it in the moonlight, he could see blood on it.

"Oh sh--gods. You're bleeding." But more importantly, Rugess Nome was feeling something he hadn't felt in years, not since he'd been approached by a crazed blind Twi'lek with a bizarre proposition. A sort of frantic tension in the air and in his normally perfectly serene blood, like a spark building up.

"I have a light in my pocket," he said, and drew it out awkwardly with his uninjured left hand. He pointed the flashlight briefly at the human. Also bleeding, at the knees. Red hair. His hand was another matter, the palm abraded and some skin scraped off his finger.

"Do you know of a nearby place to obtain first-aid?" he asked, privately thinking this more sensible than what the human had been saying.

They blew out a puff of air. "No, nothing especially close. Are you injured? We could--I _could_ call for emergency assistance." But this human sounded unenthusiastic about the possibility.

Nome cautiously flexed his bad knee. It was...worse than usual, but it would probably get better with time, and anyway it wasn't too bad to walk on. "No, I can walk, and it's nothing that needs more than a wash, a bandage, and possibly a coldpac."

"Do you need help up?" the human repeated the earlier question.

"I would accept it," he answered, shifting his other leg and repocketing the flashlight. He was hesitant to plant either hand on the ground, but finally settled for wrapping the one that was bleeding in his clean handkerchief and pushing with his left hand on the ground. "Take my cane for the moment," and he handed them that and then proffered his wrapped hand for the offered help.

"You are?" he asked when he stood again, leaning slightly against the parapet.

"Palpatine," answered the human, with some reluctance.

"Only one name?" That seemed unusual for a Naboo.

"I, ah, rejected the other part, and I rather wish I could reject that. And you?"

"Rugess Nome, starship architect."

* * *

"We'll be coming in for a landing soon," one of the ship's few crew members informed Dooku.

"Master, I think--" Qui-Gon bit off the words and thoughtfully worried his lower lip with his teeth.

Dooku openly sighed this time. There was a strange, palpable feeling in the fabric of the galaxy--in the Force. Usually premonitions were either plainly meaningful or vague yet clearly good or bad. This was...vague and nebulous. It felt somewhat like the harbinger of a hard summer rain, but he wouldn't dare to say what was ahead--a harmless downpour or a thunderstorm. "What do you feel, Qui-Gon?" Perhaps the boy would have a different perspective, and even if he didn't, it would be useful for him to describe the experience, to translate it into descriptive _language_.

"It's--the only way I can think to describe it, Master, is like this big canine that I came across when Master Yaddle had me working at the animal quarantine. It barked at me a lot, but I couldn't tell whether it, well, liked me or not."

"Mmm--" Dooku murmured acknowledgement. "I think we are feeling the same thing, Padawan, but it struck me as being like a storm."

* * *

"Are you badly injured?" Palpatine asked, seeming nervous. 

"I believe everything will heal, given proper wound care and a little rest. Why does that bother you so?"

Palpatine looked furtively around, then pled, "Please don't report this incident to the police, or introduce it in a court of law."

That was a _curious_ request. "I didn't realize your people were so prone to quick litigation."

"Well. We're not," flatly. "I simply can't afford the trouble."

Nome looked over the human's clothes again. "You don't look destitute."

Palpatine grimaced. "The affording isn't in a monetary sense. I, ah, have been in previous difficulties with both the law and the head of my family, as I am yet a minor."

"Surely it isn't illegal to accidentally collide with someone." He put a note of disbelief in the statement. "And how old are you?"

"The age of majority here, when I have any hope of speaking for myself instead of my father doing so, is 21, almost two long years away. And there are a few people who would sue over such things."

He had the oddest sense that someone was banging something at his head, as if to draw his attention to ...something. Possibly this young Palpatine.

"My hotel room is perhaps 10 minutes' walk from here and I'm sure first aid supplies can be found near there, if you'll accompany me?" 

The human walked with him, but they were both silent for a few minutes.

Nome opened his mouth, somehow not quite sure what he was about to say, and asked haltingly, "What sort of trouble did you get in with the head of your family?"

Palpatine sighed and looked resolutely at the sky instead of the Bith, but nevertheless answered: "He wanted me to follow in his footsteps as a politician. He has never liked me, and perhaps he did not thoroughly consider the idea of applying vicarious political ambitions to a child he doesn't like and who disagrees with him politically, before taking up that goal. We got in a physical fight when he tried to prevent my continuing political education yet objected firmly to my alternate career choice in speeder racing."

Had Nome been a different species with closer to human facial features, he would have raised eyebrows he did not, as it was, have. Instead, he merely commented "Neither seems like a particularly stable career choice."

* * *

"Hello, would you mind my sitting here for the landing?" 

Dooku had not expected a Muun to poke their head into the Jedi's room. 

"Who are you?" Qui-Gon asked, a little impertinently.

"Hego Krim," said the Muun eagerly. "I am an accountant."

"Are you part of COPS?" his padawan asked curiously.

"No. I uh, am working for them and exploiting spacers' law as part of a plan to have a holiday on Naboo at this particular time."

"You're 'exploiting' the law?" Dooku repeated.

"Well--I'm saving them money, and I get to, as I said, go to Naboo. But they also gave me the bunk where they were storing a lot of their promotional materials and naturally they want to get started on removing it from there as soon as possible. I was in the way. That's the only reason I came in here."

"Why do you want to go to Naboo?" Qui-Gon asked.

"A fair question. The day after the COPS summit begins, by which point I should have all of my work entirely wrapped up, there is a different conference I want to go to, but couldn't make the excuse otherwise."

"Prepare for landing," the intercom announced.

"Fine, come in and settle yourself before we get too far down," Dooku directed, and in came the Muun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of conference is Hego not-Damask going to? What happened in the Palpatines' fight? What is COPS, anyway?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Toroidal Chamber](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532792) by [handschuhmaus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus)




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